Carmen's POV

I hadn't expected to see Shane at the club. Or maybe I had, I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if half the things I do are because of her. I get confused sometimes over whether I do something and it reminds me of Shane, or if I do things to remember her. Either way, she's always in my head. Always.

Anyway, seeing her was like being hit by a truck. I had honestly thought I was over her, but when I saw her under the bar lights I had a sudden urge to wrap my arms around her. Or strangle her. One of the two. She's standing there in a black button-up shirt, her hair partially covering her eyes, just like I remembered. My date, Nicole, tugs my arm gently, and I turn my attention to her. I try to focus, but my eyes keep going back to Shane, who is staring at me like I was a ghost. I wonder vaguely how drunk she is.

Finally, I realize I have to do something. It wasn't right to just ignore her. Besides, I wanted her to know that I was happy. That I had moved on. She didn't need to know that I was not happy, and that I had not moved on. I walk over, put on my most confident face, and smile. "Hello, Shane," flows from my lips, and I can tell I'm making her nervous. She gives me an unsure half-smile and asks how I'm doing. I tell her I'm the happiest I've ever been and I swear I can see her heart break. Part of me cheers, because she broke mine. The other part of me dies. I never wanted to hurt her. I smile again and walk away, back to my date.

Nicole kisses my cheek when I return, and I feel as if I'm going to throw up. After seeing Shane, any feelings I had for Nicole have been extinguished. Nicole's smile is wide, a little too wide, and I realize I miss Shane's smile. Her real smile, not the smile she just gave me. The smile she only had when she looked at me.

"What was that about?" Nicole asks me, playing with my hair. I fight the urge to slap her hand away and told her that we used to date. Nicole laughs. "Shane McCutcheon? She doesn't date, Carmen. She's only about the one-night stand. People call her a player, but she's more of a slut if you ask me. I'm sorry if she hurt you, though."

I want nothing more than to punch Nicole in the face. She didn't know Shane. Not my Shane. The woman who left me at the altar was not my Shane, either. No one understands that but me. I know she hurt me, and I'm angry, but I still know that she didn't want to hurt me. Nicole could never understand that. I look back at Shane, who hasn't moved except to order another drink. It looks like a shot, and I know I'm the reason she's drinking it. I'm torn between wanting her to suffer and wanting me to suffer for doing that to her, and I can't take it anymore. I ask Nicole if we can leave, and she looks hopeful. I know she thinks that we're going to hook up, but any chance of that went out the window when I saw Shane. No one can compare to her, and until I manage to push her from being in my head every moment, I know I won't be doing anything with anyone. I take Nicole's hand and head for the door, smiling softly at Shane one more time.

Nicole babbles in my ear the whole way home, and then she's upset when I drop her off. I make up an excuse for why I can't stay, and she doesn't believe me. I don't care. She can think I'm a liar, I don't want to see her anyway. Not when the only thing in my head is messy brown hair and a cocky smirk. I go back to my apartment and open the refrigerator. It'll be another night of drinking myself to sleep. At least this time, I have a reason to think about her. Not like every other night this week, this month, this year. Those were imagined. This was real, and it hurt. But she was hurting too. Maybe all we were ever destined to do was break each other.